Category: House

Some Things 5/14

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1) So as you know, my precious cat Jack Jack is deaf. However, for 16 years, he’s “found” me by screaming for me. He wakes up and screams, I call out to him, he comes. So now he wakes up and screams, but gets nothing. So he just walks around screaming and caterwauling. This drives Mr C insane. But he did the sweetest thing.

I was laying down trying to get a nap when Jack started wailing and wailing and wailing. Mr C picked him up (he hardly ever touches the cat) and carried him into the bedroom where I was. Well, Jack didn’t see me immediately so he just screamed at Mr C till he finally walked over to me and Jack saw me waving at him. So Jack runs over for pets and Mr C goes back to his peace and quiet. So sweet of him to help my Jack Jack out.

2) Does your internal rage ever just jump immediately to full speed and you’re like “woooooah.” Like you didn’t even realize you were pissy and all the sudden you’re about to snap? That happened to me at Taco Mama. I was meeting up with friends for lunch. I was waiting in line. It’s important to know that at Taco Mama, the table numbers are just sharpied on triangles of wood. So he gets number 99. Now go away. Then he goes “haha, is it 99 or 66?”

Motherfucker, it won’t even stand up like that.

3) This job decision is really stressing me out. A lot more than it should. There’s so many pros and cons on both sides. I thought I had decided for sure — take the new position. But then I keep thinking of all the reasons not to. I’m not at peace about this.

Tis the Season.. for POOL

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Went to Walmart to pick up my pool salt. They’re the cheapest, don’t judge me. Took Mr C to do the heavy lifting but turns out with the car pickup service, they would have done it for me. Nice. It’s my first time using the pickup service. I usually avoid Walmart like the plague. They’re shit to their workers and it’s insanely crowded with way too many people. I tell you what though, having someone just bring eight 40lb bags of salt out to my car for me was nice. Had I known it was that simple. I’d have gotten more than eight bags!

While waiting on my own salt, I saw another man pushing a buggy to his car with about five big bags of salt himself. Yep, it’s that time of year. Then, while in the Arby’s drive thru (hey, they HAVE the meats), the truck in front of us had a pool vacuum on a bike rack and their pool cleaning pole hanging out of the back. Yep, tis the season.

I’m not sure when exactly my guy is coming to remove my pool cover. I’m not overly concerned as I still have a surgical drain in so it’s not like I can get in. Last weekend he came by and dumped in a bunch of chemicals and turned the pump on to circulate. The cover is still on though. I have to pay him to install and remove the cover for me. That thing is like 200lbs. So not sure when he plans on doing it. Maybe next weekend?

I’ve got the salt ready! It’s reading a nippy 72 degrees. When the cover comes off it should heat up faster. Gonna be rocking my new boobs this pool season!

Shout out to Jack

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A few years ago (maybe 3?) Jack had an abscessed wound. It had to be left open to heal from the inside out. Because of this, Mr C didn’t want him in the bedroom leaving puss and such where ever he sat. Well, I’m not gonna leave my precious hanging, so I spent a month sleeping on the couch with him so he wouldn’t be alone at night. He’s my special, I’m not gonna leave him – especially when he was in pain.

These past two and a half weeks, I’ve been sleeping in a recliner in the living room. And this wonderful bastard has spent almost all of these nights and days sleeping in my lap in the recliner.

Sure he takes breaks when he wants to go sit in a sun ray and heat up in the afternoon. But come night time, he’s back in my lap. He doesn’t usually sleep with Mr C and I at night in the bedroom. But while I’ve been down here recovering, he’s been with me almost every single night. He’s a damn lava rock of heat, but I don’t care. I love him.

I adore this fucking cat. Thanks for taking care of me, Jack.

New Garden Tools!

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I got new garden tools! As a near-40-year-old, spiffy gardening tools bring me great joy. Tis the season to spring clean the flower beds! Especially since I’m having surgery next week. Shits gotta get done before then. I called out the lawn guy for an estimate on cleaning up the branches in the yard and cleaning the leaves and branches from the pool area. He tried to up-sell me on letting him take care of my flower beds. He said trimming and mulch could really spiff them up. Well, I usually take care of that myself. I just hadn’t got around to it yet. Plus I don’t like my azaleas over-trimmed. They’re supposed to look natural, not square. And don’t dare trim my spireas! They’re not yet full grown. So last weekend I got my ass out there and weeded and put down and ungodly amount of Preen (supposed to keep weeds out). And I ordered myself some new goodies.

First, a hedge trimmer. Last year I didn’t trim my hedges. It was a year of mourning. In the years before that, my mom would just bring up my sisters hedge trimmer for me to borrow that once a year you need one. Well, moms gone. So I bought my own hedge trimmer.

Click the picture for the link. Why this one? Well because all of my garden tools are 40 volt Black and Decker. This means all of my $100 batteries fit all of my equipment. Do I need three batteries to get through trimming my hedges? Nope. But I sure do need at least two batteries when I’m doing a lot of weed-eating. Keeping everything from the same line of products means a lot of cross versatility.

I was so excited to use my new hedge trimmer that I trimmed hedges on my lunch break Wednesday. Ah, the perks of working from home. I wish I had a before picture. It’s just so satisfying how nice and clean everything looks with just a bit of a trim. My Japonicas needed a hair cut badly. The azaleas got just a tad bit of a trim to even them out and keep them below the window line. I particularly like a hedge trimmer because it makes me feel so powerful. I shall cut ALL THE THINGS. But not my arm off — like a chainsaw. Chainsaws are terrifying. Hedge trimmers are satisfying without being terrifying.

What else did I order? A garden wagon.

Don’t make fun of my garden wagon! I need this thing. I hate my freaking wheel barrow — it always wants to tip over. And every year it needs new air in the tire. So I finally got a garden wagon. With solid rubber tires that won’t ever need air. And it’s huge — holds more than the wheel barrow. Holds 220lbs too! And it folds up! Fuck yeah it does! No disassembly required, just folds up. What?

God willin’ and the creek don’t rise, I’m gonna use it Sunday to pick up all those branches I trimmed and haul them off. Then I’ll use it to drag bags of mulch over to where I need them. Then Mr C can load it with 8 bags of fertilizer I bought and walk the property line and fertilize my arbor trees. Then this summer, I can use it to haul all those 40lb bags of salt and pool chemicals out to the pool. Or a load of chairs for a party.

What I’m saying is, I’m excited about this wagon.

Mr C’s Attack Dog

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Mr C fears confrontation. I’m not sure if he fears it, or it’s just too awkward from him — but he doesn’t confront. He has me to confront. I do not fear confrontation. I enjoy it. I take pride in it as a skill. Therefore, whenever Mr C wants to know whats going on, or pwn someone who’s trying to rip us off, he just calls on me. Cause, fuck it, I’m in.

So Friday, Mr C calls out (we’re working from home) that someone’s taking pictures of our house. “What do you mean taking pictures of our house?”

“They’ve parked in the driveway and are walking around taking pictures of our house.”

“You want me to see why?”

“I thought you’d be interested.”

“Do I have time to change out of my PJ pants?”

I’m very possessive of our property. I don’t know if it’s because I like having property or what. I just don’t like people on my property without my permission. Maybe I just like that it’s mine. Maybe I’m the old man yelling “get off my lawn!” Maybe you look shady as fuck even if you weren’t taking photos of my house.

It was gutter people. They were making an estimate on cleaning our gutters. They cool. I got their card. (Gutter Pro sent them — but Gutter Pro works like a pimp pimpin out gutter cleaning whores. I’m serious. You just sign up and say “I’ll clean gutters” and they start sending you addresses. It’s terrible. Mostly they send people ill equipped to do a large two story and we get turned down — if they show at all. I never said they were good pimps.) So Mr owner of “Chainz” (I told you these people looked sketch as all hell) was taking photos to justify a higher price for the job.

The roof was too slick for them to finish today but I asked Mr Chainz’s handyman if he could fix our coat closet doors too. Cause dude, I need a handyman. He’s gonna give me an estimate when he comes back for the gutters.

Anyway, I hate that if there’s ever a bump in the night, I’m gonna be the one investigating. I always wanted to date the protective type. The guys who were at least as big as me. I’ve got 100lbs on Mr C. Dammit cute nerds.

I am hurt.

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First, Backstory: I live on an acre of land on a main road. Back in the 20’s — the 1920s, not these shithole ones — a neighborhood was planned. There would be a neighborhood with 10 large houses fronting the road at the entry. These 10 plots of land were mapped and sold. The neighborhood never came to be. Eventually the road access was even merged into Ricky’s plot. So there were just 6 of us in a row with lovely houses and forest for miles behind us and in front of us.

Well, where we live is quickly expanding so they decided to buy that land behind us and put in a neighborhood. Of course we’re not a part of it — fuck your HOA. But their backyards back right up to ours. We lost all that beautiful forest and privacy. Now our backyard backs up to someone else’s backyard. C’est la vie. Now you’re caught up.

Today, I search for their neighborhood on Facebook. They had a Facebook page! I immediately applied to join and explained the situation. They let me in and I commented on posts and got likes and it was nice. I then made an introductory post explaining the history of how they used to be neighborhood ABC like us, but now they’re neighborhood XYZ and welcome to the area! I got a bunch of likes and some comments. I texted my fellow neighbors that they should join too! How neighborly!

Then comments were turned off on my post. Weird. Then they made the group unsearchable on Facebook. That’s not gonna help your neighbors find you. Then a few hours later, I look and I’ve been booted. BOOTED.

What the fucking fuck? Motherfuckers. I’m hurt. Like irrationally hurt. I thought we had a neighborly thing going and they don’t want me in their neighborhood? Motherfuckers, I was here first. YOU TOOK MY TREES YOU SONS OF BITCHES.

So now I’m like, irrationally hurt. I’m depressed about it. (Granted, everything makes me depressed because I’m always on the cusp of collapse into the darkness — but still). I’m hurt.

Fuck you and your whole neighborhood. Fall in a sinkhole, you bitches!

Am I allowed to hold one admins actions against a whole neighborhood?

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UPDATE: The Next Day

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This was in my mailbox today!

For REAL. What the hell kind of response is this to someone joining your facebook group? It’s trespassing! And technically a felony because they messed with my mail box. Was this some weird midnight black op to put it in there unseen? Who does this? What the fucking fuck? What kind of response is this to a hello from your neighbor? THIS IS INSANE.

Putting Away Christmas

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I’m finally making a dent in putting away the Christmas decor! It’s been weighing on me heavily as a task that needs doing. We never take it down before Mr C’s birthday — but once that passes, it’s just such a chore. I come down from work, I’m already a bit depressed, and I’m just overwhelmed. I can’t relax because I gotta do it — but I also don’t want to do it — so I just nap instead.

Not today, Satan!

Last night I had Mr C bring in all the boxes and started packing up. Today I took down the tree. The downstairs is officially de-decorated. HA! And Mr C took all the front decorations around back for me too. So I don’t have to feel ashamed about the neighbors judgement. This is a huge victory against depression! SUCK IT!

The upstairs trees are not as much trouble and they’re not in “my space.” So I’m not looking at them feeling weighed down. Moms room is fast as I just stick the whole tree in the closet. Then the office tree is small. The bedroom tree is a bit of a pain, but not as bad as our main tree. So yeah. I’m doing it!

Some Things 1/18

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  1. I’m seven weeks post op tomorrow (tummy tuck and arm lift). Nothing really new to talk about on that front. Yes, I still have my cursed drains. I saw the doctor yesterday for a regular followup and he said they remove them at 8 weeks. The nurse replied with “not when they’re at 40!” and he didn’t reply. So he scheduled to see me in 2 weeks. That’ll be almost 9 weeks post op. I have faith that he’ll take them out at that appointment no matter what. I honestly think at this point, maybe the drains themselves are making the wound not heal up faster. They were on a steady decline to 35/40 until January started. They’ve not moved since (except one day number 2 shot up but it was just that once). So I’m scared they’ll have to drain fluid with a needle if they remove them, but I also haven’t been laid since NOVEMBER.
  2. At least he took off my 10lb lift limit. I can pick up things now! Rather than stare sadly at them and ask someone else to do it.
  3. Mr C’s birthday was yesterday! The big 40! I made him the lemon tart (recipe here) that he loves because he got chocolate mousse for Christmas. I made it all — the giant pain in the ass. I used M’s tip to mix the crust pastry in the food processor rather than by hand — GENIUS. I juiced all the lemons, I zested, I custard-ed. I clean up all the dishes and then went to put the beautiful tart in the fridge and saw one and a half sticks of butter on the counter. Fuck fuck fuck. I had to dump out all the custard, put it back over the heat and dissolve all the butter then pour it back in. It doesn’t seem to have suffered for it but damn. Close one. I was so pleased with myself before I saw that butter too.

Christmas is coming

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For those who don’t know, mom died last Christmas day. Now.

We’re putting up the Christmas decorations. I need to get everything ready before my surgery. Getting moms room done was easy. I didn’t take down her tree last year, I just shoved it in her closet. So All I did was get it out, change out the blankets and pillows and get a few more things from her closet. Easy-peasy. And I actually liked seeing it back the way she left it.

Last night we did one of the Christmas trees. The living room tree. And it sucked ass. She gave me like a third of the ornaments on there (if not more). The cat ball. The jelly fish the year I was a jelly fish for Halloween (she was so proud of that one, perfect find). Even the ones she didn’t give me, I remember showing her proudly or picking out with her. She’s always been around when we do the Christmas tree. Mostly she’s usually here as we put it up. Even if not, I’m always excited to tell her about it and for her to see it when she visits. We always go to at least one Christmas market and pick out a new ornaments each year.

The nativity wasn’t bad even though she’s given me pieces of it. She was so proud one year to give me the very coveted shepherd and camel set. I guess it wasn’t bad because she got to see it hit peak glory last year. I built a creche for it and we had a sideboard in the dining room for it. It spreads out beautifully. I’ve got it lit with LEDs. I added the beautiful mercury glass trees she gave me. I adore it. I don’t know of a more beautiful nativity that anyone else owns.

So mom saw that and that pleases me. I guess that’s why her room was the same. She knew what it looked like. She was super proud of the ribbon window swag I made her for her bedroom window. She told me exactly what she wanted and supervised the whole thing. I only added one thing: A beautiful cardinal that I know she would have loved.

There’s two more important boxes to go grab and decorate with. One of them being breakables and one being soft things. Soft things like Christmas stockings. Like moms Christmas stocking. What the fuck do I do with her Christmas stocking?

I’d lay it on her bed, but my sister-in-law will be staying in there while I recuperate from surgery and she’s very emotional. But I don’t want to just leave it boxed up. I don’t want her to be gone. She can’t be gone.

*Tears up* So it’s just been easier to lay here on the couch and not go get that box.

Ungrateful Cat.

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I’ve been up since 4:00. Couldn’t sleep. Partially because I took naps yesterday (multiple), partially because of bad dreams. Most of the bad dreams were the night before last — hence the naps yesterday. I knew I was dreaming but I kept waking in a house that wasn’t my own. It would seem like mine but I’d figure it out and then be tortured to death. I’m pretty sure my hand was grinded off at some point with a powertool. I’m trying to forget. I was stuck in a loop of dreams. I think I even had to forgive my father at some point trying to figure out what whoever was doing this to me wanted just to get out of the loop. It was rough. I’m not joking about grinding a bloody stump arm either. I’m trying hard to forget that part. Did I mention I’ve been depressed?

I had some maybes for coming to the pool to hang out with me but I got stood up. So I just napped instead. Me and Mr C hung out though. And I cooked chicken for supper. I went to bed late but woke at 4:00. Lame.

I changed out the litter closet this weekend. Yes, my precious has his own bathroom. It even has a cat door and a bathroom ventilation fan. He is my precious, after all. I completely changed out one litterbox for a new one and cleaned the second one up. Yes, he has two litterboxes in his swanky litter closet. He likes the pee in the left one and poop in the right one.

I did this so I could switch cat litters. I’ve mentioned a million times that he tracks cat litter all over the place. Ugh. A work friend suggested I try Fresh Step: Clean Paws. Well, I’ll try something new, sure. So I cleaned everything up and switched out to a completely new cat litter. Even put in new carbon filters. Hope it works. So far it clumps OK enough. But it’s much heavier and harder to sift through to scoop since the pieces are so much bigger. But I hope it keeps him from tracking a small white line of litter down the hall.

Did I mention when I was carrying out the cat litter, the bag had a hole and left a trail of dirty cat little from my back door to the pool gate? Cause it happened.

At least I was up early enough to give him his medicines and breakfast with no screaming banshee over my head. It went alright until he barfed it all up on the rug. Complete with undigested expensive kidney pill sitting right there on top.

Fuck me.

The things we do for the little fuzzy shits we love.